


Fortune Favors the Bold

by Nokomis



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Accidental Confession of Love, Bathing/Washing, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, M/M, weirdos in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: Oswald asks Ed to help him take a bath. It's more awkward than he expects.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Perspexsea! Thanks to my lovely beta Rainpuddle for looking over this. <3 I... don't even know anymore, I ship these two a ridiculous amount.

Oswald shuffled his way slowly to the couch, feeling every movement send sharp spikes of pain through his bad leg. The day had gone poorly -- mayoral duties had been dull and accomplished nothing, which was Oswald’s least favorite combination, and he’d tried to cheer himself up with some hands-on participation in a beatdown that he’d scheduled, but the cretin had managed to get a kick in directly on Oswald’s bad leg.

 

And here he was. 

 

Ed was sitting at the desk, silently going through a stack of paperwork.

Oswald hated to interrupt, especially given how delicate Ed had seemed of late, but he needed help and he was not willing to let the housekeeper see him in a state of vulnerability. “Ed?”

 

“Yes?” Ed’s voice was clipped. His recovery from Isabella’s death was not as speedy as Oswald would have assumed; he’d recalled Ed’s bright-eyed delight so shortly after Miss Kringle’s unfortunate demise. But then, Ed had had a personal hand in that one, and thus hadn’t wallowed in the blame and self-pity stage nearly as long.

“I’m somewhat reluctant to ask,” Oswald lied, “but I’m in need of assistance. Would you be willing to help?”

 

“Of course.” Ed made a mark on the page he was reading, set a paperweight on top of the stack, and came to Oswald. 

 

“I should be able to make it to the bathroom,” Oswald said, gesturing toward his leg, hoping that much was true. He hadn’t wrenched his leg quite like this in a while, and he knew that even with his cane every step would be painful. “But I will need some assistance in getting through my bath.”

“Of course, Mr. Penguin,” Ed said carefully. Oswald was pretty certain that the tips of his ears were reddening, which… was fascinating to see. Ed wasn’t given to many outward expressions of embarrassment.

 

“Unless of course it makes you uncomfortable,” Oswald added, because Ed was carefully not meeting his eyes. Baths had always been a shared time in the Cobblepot house; perhaps Ed viewed it as more of a solitary activity.

 

“No, no, I’m happy to help,” Ed said, this time meeting his eyes and smiling tightly. “Let’s get you up those stairs.”

 

Oswald had never anticipated that he would play the broken-winged bird just to get a little extra attention, but he allowed Ed to slide his hand under Oswald’s shoulder and keep another hand steadied on the center of his back as they moved up the stairs. He would have leaned back into Ed’s touch, if only he’d had more confidence in his leg. 

 

Ed began to fill the claw-foot tub with steaming-hot water as they entered the bathroom, and Oswald took the time to lean his cane against the wall and carefully begin to remove his cravat.

 

“Allow me,” Ed said, gently taking the purple silk and straightening it out as he laid it out. Then Ed carefully began to undress him, taking care to hang each article of clothing up or to fold it neatly as he removed it from Oswald’s body.

 

The rhythm of the actions was soothing; Ed had carefully dressed him in this outfit only this morning, and Oswald just had to stand there and allow him to perform his morning routine in reverse. Ed only hesitated when they had reached the most basic staples of his outfit: pants, socks, undershirt.

 

Oswald removed his own undershirt, handing it to Ed as he unbuttoned his trousers and carefully worked them off, being extra mindful of his leg.

 

There were large, deep purple bruises on his leg, standing out in sharp relief on his pale skin, and Ed made a tiny, concerned humming noise as he inspected them, leaning in close. His long fingers ghosted across Oswald’s skin, tracing the edges of the bruises as Ed said, “Would you like me to pencil in any revenge beatings for tomorrow?”

 

His tone was businesslike, though he was kneeling on the bathroom floor, touching Oswald, as if this were something they did regularly.

 

“No, it’s quite alright,” Oswald said, proud when his voice didn’t sound strangled at all. “I ensured it would not happen again.” 

 

It was strange, looking down at Ed. Oswald had become accustomed to looking up at him and this new perspective, looking down on Ed’s carefully parted hair, sent shivers across Oswald’s skin. The gooseflesh was clearly visible, and Oswald sucked in a breath.

 

Ed didn’t seem to notice; he just nimbly helped pull off Oswald’s socks, one at a time, and then rose and carefully turned to make some adjustments to the bathwater, allowing Oswald to remove his remaining undergarments with dignity.

 

Ed had helped Oswald dress many times before, making final adjustments to his outfits and sliding on suit jackets and buttoning cuffs, but this was, Oswald realized, the first time he’d ever been fully exposed around Ed. Well, that he was aware of-- Ed had dressed him in pajamas the first time he’d stayed at Ed’s apartment, back before he’d known what a godsend Ed was in his life -- but Oswald didn’t dwell on that. 

 

Ed was entirely businesslike, though, which allowed Oswald to relax. He hadn’t anticipated how strongly Ed’s touch would affect him; he’d been helped into the bath a hundred times before and had never given it a second thought. 

 

But needs must.

 

Oswald knew that getting into the tub itself would be a struggle, and he said, “Would you?” and gestured for Ed to give him a hand. 

Ed had been studiously inspecting the towel rack. He had taken the opportunity to remove his own suit jacket, carefully hanging it up with Oswald’s own clothes, and he had rolled his sleeves up, leaving his forearms enticingly bare. He hurried over and assessed the situation before using one arm to brace along Oswald’s shoulders, while he put the other one on Oswald’s hip in a steadying manner. Oswald tried his best not to dwell on how much strength Ed was hiding in his slender build, and how very warm his skin felt through the thin material of his shirt.

 

Thus supported, Oswald stepped into the bathtub with his strong leg, before allowing Ed to help him get his aching bad leg over the rim, sinking down with a sigh. The water was the perfect temperature, and Ed had even included Oswald’s favorite bubbles.

 

He picked up a handful and blew it, eliciting an actual laugh from Ed. “How’d you know to include the bubbles?” Oswald asked, dipping his hand into the water again. 

 

“They matched your scent,” Ed said in the analytical tone Oswald recognized from when Ed would get lost in his duties as Chief of Staff or deeply into planning crimes. Oswald loved when Ed got analytical.

 

“They are a delight,” Oswald said. They also preserved his modesty, which… was something Oswald had not given much thought to. Oswald tended to favor formal clothing that left very little skin exposed, and he had become accustomed to the shield it provided between him and the world. Ed… Ed wasn’t the world, exactly, but Oswald felt exposed with him for an entirely different reason. 

 

It was a strange new feeling, like electricity was humming below his skin, but Oswald found it to be quite pleasant, really.

 

Ed picked up the sponge, unasked, and began to sluice water over Oswald’s shoulders and back. Oswald leaned forward, enjoying the sensation of water almost as much as he enjoyed the occasional brush of Ed’s thumb against his bare skin.

 

“I know the bubbles are childish,” Oswald said, feeling the need to fill the air with words, since Ed was being uncharacteristically quiet as he continued to wash Oswald’s back. “I’ve loved them since I was a child, after all. My mother---” His voice cracked, unexpectedly, so he tried again. “My mother would allow me as many bubbles as I wished. Sometimes she would even spritz them with her perfume, and it was like she was surrounding me in a hug.” His mother’s hugs had been beyond compare. 

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Ed said, quietly. The warm water poured over Oswald’s shoulders, and he draped his arms on the sides of the tub. The sharper aches in his leg were subsiding, and he felt warm and relaxed. The rhythm Ed had settled into, sluicing water and the sponge over Oswald’s back and shoulders and dipping over onto his chest, was strangely familiar, and then Oswald realized it was the same as his mother had done.

 

“She was,” Oswald agreed. “Were you close to your mother, Ed?”

 

“I was not,” Ed said, all short clipped tones, and he did not offer further information. 

 

Oswald had never heard Ed speak of his parents; it was like he had sprung fully formed into the GCPD. “Your father? I took a bath in this very tub the first night I met my father. It was the happiest I’d been since my mother was so cruelly taken from me.”

 

Ed shook his head. “I regret to say that my upbringing was not as warm as yours.”

 

His hand snaked over Oswald’s shoulder to rub the sponge needlessly over Oswald’s chest. Oswald reached out and grabbed his wrist, looking up at Ed. “Regret is not a strong enough word. My dearest, were I able to, I would make sure that you had a wonderful childhood.”

 

“I--” Ed actually looked startled, eyes wide. “I appreciate that.”

 

It was only then that Oswald realized that he’d neglected to say friend, and had merely called Ed his dearest. True though it was, it wasn’t quite where their relationship was. “Ed--” he began, but Ed was still speaking. 

“---truly wish that we had known each other sooner,” Ed was saying. The pit in Oswald’s stomach lessened as he realized that Ed was not upset. “I haven’t… I haven’t been close to anyone, before. No real friendships, until ours. I have been somewhat distracted, of late.” Isabella’s name hung unspoken between them. “But I am beyond grateful for you.”

 

Oswald’s grip slipped until he was holding Ed’s hand rather than his wrist. “I feel the same, truly,” he said. 

 

Ed’s smile was like dawn breaking. “Here, let me get your hair,” he said.

 

“I can do that,” Oswald said. He was reluctant to let Ed’s hand go, but he managed it.

 

“No, I insist,” Ed said, and who was Oswald to argue? 

 

He tilted his head back and allowed Ed to pour water through his hair. Ed’s fingers massaged the shampoo into his scalp, and Oswald’s eyes fluttered shut. Both of Ed’s hands moved through his hair, and Oswald could stay in this moment forever. All the tension eased from his body, and even the constant ache of his leg faded into the background, unable to compete with the sensation of Ed’s hands against his head, and the warm rush of water washing away the soap and stress.

 

“Mmmm,” Oswald murmured, relaxed and content as Ed finished with his hair. “I love y--” His eyes popped open as he realized what he was saying, and he hastily added, “your presence in the mansion!”

 

Oswald was a total fucking moron, is what he was. He wanted to slap himself in the forehead, or, even more temptingly, to just sink below the water and stay there until Ed had moved out. Instead, he slowly turned to look at Ed.

 

Ed was still sitting there next to the tub, and his expression--- Oswald had never seen quite that look on Ed’s face before. It wasn’t quite gobsmacked, but it was definitely contemplative and headed firmly in the gobsmacked territory. But then Ed realized that Oswald was looking at him, and he smiled, a nervous, fleeting thing, and said, “Likewise.”

 

Oswald smiled back tightly, and said, “The water’s getting cold. Help me out?”

 

He could probably manage it on his own, all truth told, though it would be awkward, and the water was still lovely, but he couldn’t stay here for one more second. Ed quickly stood to offer his assistance, and his grip on Oswald’s shoulder and side felt… It felt different, this time. Less businesslike, Oswald thought, but also not particularly friendly. It felt careful, as though Ed were suddenly afraid that Oswald might break.

 

He wrapped himself in the fluffiest towel he had, and Ed slid his favorite robe over his shoulders before handing him his cane. 

 

“Can you make it to your room?” Ed asked. His voice was low and rough, and Oswald couldn’t help but notice that his white shirt now had several wet splotches on it, where they’d come into contact.

 

Oswald nodded, leaning heavily on his cane. He was halfway down the hall, the tension returning to his shoulders the further he moved from Edward, and the more the memory of how he slipped up--- how Ed, who was so very smart, smarter than anyone Oswald knew, had to know…

 

When Ed called down the hall, “Oswald?”

 

He stopped, and glanced back. Ed was standing just outside his room, nervously pushing up at the folded-up sleeves of his shirt. “Yes?”

 

“I love your presence here, too,” Ed said in a breathy rush, so fast that it took Oswald a moment to parse the words.

 

Then-- 

 

His eyes went wide.

 

And Ed ducked inside his room, leaving Oswald standing there, a warm feeling curling up through his body. Ed loved--- Ed loved his presence.

 

Ed had _loved_ his presence. 

 

Oswald’s cheeks were hurting, his smile was so wide, and he stood there in the center of the hallway, holding onto Ed’s words like a life preserver. Then slowly he turned, and shuffled as quickly as he could on his bad leg to Ed’s door.

 

Fortune favored the bold, after all.


End file.
